


Dark Paradise

by DepravedDoll



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepravedDoll/pseuds/DepravedDoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thinks he catches the scent a few moments earlier, when the other brushes past him to collect a journal from the desk. When he returns for the next and leans past him the scent is undeniable.“How is Freddie Lounds Will,” He thinks his heart stops, one harsh judder against his rib cage and then stillness.</p>
<p>Alternative ending to season two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Paradise

**Dark Paradise**

He thinks he catches the scent a few moments earlier, when the other brushes past him to collect a journal from the desk. When he returns for the next and leans past him the scent is undeniable, he watches as he walks back towards the fire. His mind clicks concisely and everything fits into place so neatly, he thinks if his mind weren’t so organised he may have become the monster Will believed him to be. Instead he said nothing, placed the book he was holding down on the desk and walked over to the window in the far corner of the office.

He took his glass of wine with him, staring out into the darkness as he collected his thoughts, worked back over the past few days. Scrutinising the other’s movements and words inside his mind, there isn’t much that Hannibal Lecter cannot recall with a mere thought, his mind is able to hold every moment. His fingertips tighten around the glass and he can feel the crystal giving beneath his grasp but it does not shatter. His control unwavering even now, if Will has noticed this internal struggle he has not voiced his thoughts. Hannibal listens closely, passed the fire, the heartbeat he can just make out is steady.

Will doesn’t know that he knows, that his game is unravelling, Hannibal plans the next moments carefully, each move, each word. His mind is a weapon that has never failed him, never betrayed him.

“Perhaps we should go for dinner,” he says as he steps away from the window and places his glass back on the tray next to the wine bottle. “It’s getting late, I am sure you must be hungry,” he slips into his coat gracefully and collects Will’s. “You can say no, if you have somewhere else to be, someone else to see,” a slight smile, just enough to hide the meaning beneath the words. Will has blinded himself to the possibility of Hannibal seeing through him, a foolish mistake some might say.

“No, I would like to join you.” Hannibal holds the coat for his companion to slip into. The scent again, it’s smothering everything else, it infuriates him, reminds him of the betrayal.

“There’s a fine rain but I thought we could walk the short distance this evening,” he knows Will won’t refuse, after all he doesn’t seem to refuse him much these days. He wants the scent to seep away with the rain, light as it was the mist would cover the heavy perfume that clung to the younger’s skin. Will consents, just as he thought he would, Hannibal locks up as his companion waits on the steps leading to the street, he watches him for a moment, how he stands. His heads tilted up slightly, the gentle rain tumbles across his skin, he seems to relish in the moment. He returns to himself as Hannibal takes the steps closer. Smiles slightly at the intrigued expression that greets him.

“It’s calming, the rain,” he explains and they fall into sync with their steps, heading towards the gates and the streets ahead.

“Are you not calm tonight Will, is there something playing on your mind.”

“Our session has ended Doctor, you’re not being paid any longer.” Hannibal nods, his hands slipping into his coat pockets.

“Just friendly conversation,” he insists, “I too enjoy the rain, there is a wonderful scent to it, both as it falls and as it dries. Its nourishment, to the land, to us, without it, all would shrivel and die.” The walk isn’t far, twenty minutes at most, they don’t rush, no reason to when time doesn’t seem like an adversary.

They arrive at the house and despite the mutual appreciation of the rain they are both grateful to close the door as the heavens open. Hannibal takes Will’s coat, hangs it up beside his own, he is grateful the heavy scent has faded, leaving only the crisp fresh smell of the water droplets, the subtle aftershave and something entirely Will. They head into the kitchen, Hannibal chooses a red wine and carefully uncorks the bottle, pouring a glass each before finding the fillet steak wrapped in the fridge. He slices it with a surgical precision, almost delicate with the knife, Will admires Hannibal as he cooks, thinks how easy and effortless it looks to the elder. The wine is heavy yet delicious, the scent of it alone a treat.

Even when it’s only the two of them they still eat in the vast dining room, Will lit the fire moments earlier and it crackles and sparks as it devours the wood. Hannibal serves, placing the perfectly presented plate in front of Will, the aroma is wonderful, enticing and Hannibal takes his place opposite his companion. They eat in silence, yet Will gets the feeling that the Doctor wants to say something, he doesn’t push, he waits.

Sometimes he allows himself to enjoy these moments, to forget everything that has happened before, everything that was happening outside of that moment. He’s almost lost in the sensations, the food, the wine, the warmth and crackle of the fire, Hannibal sat opposite, it’s almost domestic.

“How is Freddie Lounds Will,” He thinks his heart stops, one harsh judder against his rib cage and then stillness. He glances at the Doctor, his hands are resting on the table, either side of the plate, he watches, waiting for Will’s response. Will has a thousand words, a thousand answers, all fighting for air, none suitable. “I am uncertain why you would visit her before me, her perfume is repugnant.” He fills his glass, stands and moves to top up Will’s, the glass is on his left and he passes behind him to reach it and again on the way back to his seat. Will holds his breath subconsciously in these moments, Hannibal hears it. “How long have you been deceiving me,”

“She is under protective custody, with the FBI, I took her there.” He meets Hannibal’s dark gaze and holds it even as everything inside him screams to turn away. “I never said I killed her,”

“I never said I thought you did, sometimes the things we don’t say speak far louder than the things we do. You know this Will, you played that game very well.” There is a harshness to the Doctors voice, his words clipped, concise, Will isn’t sure whether to push to breaking or to back down. It’s a deathly game he plays and his skin tingles with the rush of adrenaline.

“We have both played games Hannibal,” there is no change to the others expression, he tries so hard to read him, to understand him as he can so many others.

“What is it you want Will, would you like to take my life,” a whispered no, “my freedom then, would you take that, I have given you a gift, let you see me.” There is anger now, he thinks the elder is just holding on, just keeping his cool. Part of him wants to stop, the rest wants to continue the game, to push until the breaking point, as risky as that might be. He wants to know if he can make Hannibal break his composure.

“I contacted Jack, we wanted to catch you, lure you, we knew we wouldn’t find any evidence. The only way was to force you to act.”

“Are you attempting to bait me even now,” a sip of wine, before he rolls up his sleeves, displaying pale shimmering scars, deep and thick, marring the length of his wrist and running well into his forearm. He drops a scalpel on the table, Will can recall the moment he collected it, in the office as he was locking up, slipping it into his pocket, he knew even then. “Why don’t you kill me, like you wanted to, with your hands, I know you’ve imagined it before.” The scalpel lies between them, Hannibal’s wrists are extended, facing upwards on the table.

“I don’t want to kill you,” he hisses through clenched teeth, Hannibal’s eyes are dark, dangerous and predatory.

“No, you would like me locked away, to destroy my freedom and everything I hold dear.”

“Do you think I can forget, that I can erase the things I know you have done.”

“I don’t think you want to, you have a powerful mind Will, if you wanted those memories gone they would be. You want to remember, want to see, you understand this and this alone is what forces you to Jack, the fear you might enjoy the part of you that is locked away.” Still those scars between them “you wanted this, you killed Randal, can you really ignore this part of you.” Will grabs the left wrist, holds it tight in his grip, tight enough to bruise and yet the elder doesn’t even flinch.

“You smelt her, on me, that’s how you knew, you couldn’t stand it, that’s why you suggested the walk in the rain.” Hannibal smirks, Will can feel the steady pulse beneath his fingertips.

“I told you, her scent is abhorrent, every passing moment reminded me of your betrayal, of how easily it came to you.”

“So why this, why this charade, why bring me here for dinner. Why not kill me?” Hannibal smirks, the slight twist of his lips and there is humour in his eyes.

“I have never wanted to kill you Will, you are far too important to me, I brought you here because I forgive you.” That heartbeat beneath his fingers is still steady, a gentle nudge to the scarred flesh. The words are unexpected, they send Will’s mind spiralling, “can you forgive me?” he doesn’t wait for the answer. He stands and collects the plates, all the while those scars on show, he leaves the room, leaves Will with his thoughts, retracing his steps through their time together. The most frightening thing is that he does want to forgive. He finishes his drink before heading into the kitchen.

The room is pristine again, like it belongs in a show home, almost as if no food was prepared there at all. “If I can forgive you what then?” Will asks as he walks the edge of the kitchen, Hannibal’s back is to him as he washes the plates.

“Whatever you want, we could leave, we could stay and continue as we are, with some slight changes perhaps.” He doesn’t look at him as he speaks.

“If I can’t forgive you?” Silence follows that question for a long pause.

“I don’t believe you would still be here if that were the case, you surprise even yourself with the workings of your mind.” He loses himself in thought for a moment, when he returns to his senses Hannibal is much closer, inches away. “I think it’s time you were honest with yourself Will, you doubt your instincts far too often, how often have they been wrong?”

“I was wrong about you, I thought I could trust you, with my mind, my wellbeing.” There is a spark of anger inside Will at the memories that flood back in that moment. “You talk of betrayal but you set the precedence, you turned everyone against me,” Hannibal moves closer and Will steps back, moves backwards until his back hits the cool surface of the fridge and Hannibal is a mere breath away.

“I wanted to show you what the world was, how quickly people can turn, how untrustworthy they all are. The way your mind works, far surpasses any of them, yet they each look down on you, call you crazy, how is it crazy to understand the thoughts of so many. It is only crazy because it differs from the norm, they fear it, as they always have and always will do.” Will pulls the scalpel from his pocket, a calm delicate movement and he places the blade to Hannibal’s throat. The Doctor steps closer, the blade piercing just slightly, drawing a droplet of blood. He doesn’t flinch, Will’s heart pounds inside his chest, so forceful his body aches with the pressure. His eyes remain fixed to the darker iris’ belonging to his counterpart. “What will happen if you kill me, will you feel relief, or will you be alone again?”

“What is it you want from me Doctor Lecter?” the droplet of blood is joined by another and they trickle the length of the elders neck to the top of the white shirt, the fabric soaks it in greedily.

“I want to be understood, accepted, no one wants to be alone Will and I am no exception. You understand, if only you would let yourself.” He steps impossibly closer, testing Will’s resolve, the hand holding the scalpel trembles and Hannibal’s own closes around it, holding steady. “You have already said you do not wish to kill me Will, why this contradiction or is it confliction perhaps, caught between your own desire and Jack’s influence.” More blood, deep and thick, the cut lengthens and the blade is sharp, the scent hangs heavy in the air, enticing, Will watches the droplets as they fall, entranced.

“You bleed just like everyone else,”

“Yes, I bled quite a lot at the hands of your companion. Is that what you want, to bleed me for my sins, for you.” Will wonders what it is he wants, his mind is heavy, hazy, he can feel the Doctors heartbeat, still as steady as ever. Before he can think any further Hannibal leans in, pressing his lips to Will’s own, the gesture is gentle, a brush of lips against lips and the scalpel cuts a little more, the blood running across the steel onto Will’s hand. He moans despite himself and feels as though his mind is lost.

The scalpel clutters to the floor, an almost deafening noise in the stillness of the kitchen and he forces his lips onto Hannibal’s. This gesture is not controlled, it’s desperate, Hannibal allows the eager force, the clash of teeth and swipe of tongues, his hand finds the back of Will’s neck and he cradles it tenderly. The desperation ebbs to a steady heady desire, they push as close as possible to one another, Will gripping the elder for support. He doesn’t want to pull back, afraid of whatever decisions will follow, he’s happy to continue moving his lips against the Doctors, savouring the taste of his mouth, tinged with the delectable wine from earlier. His hands grip at the perfectly coifed hair, he groans, an almost primal sound and thinks that he has definitely lost his mind. When they part Will stares just past Hannibal, as he so often does.

“I forgive you,” he whispers and he truly does, as insane as it may sound he can let go of all the anger he has held. The wound on Hannibal’s neck continues to bleed, he presses his hand to where the skin has parted.

“It will heal, barely a scratch,” Hannibal all but whispers as he places a kiss to Will’s jawline. Savouring the scent of the heated skin, the rain still clings there, but Freddie has long since vanished and Hannibal would like to keep things that way. “What should we have for dessert,” Hannibal asks, lips moving against the shell of Will’s ear as he speaks, the others hand clings to his shoulder, desperately seeking stability he fears he may not hold himself in those moments. Will doesn’t speak, he stares at the other, holding his gaze before once again capturing his lips, the kiss is passionate, lust filled and he automatically bucks against the Doctor, desperate for the friction.

“It’s been a while since I dreamt of killing you Doctor Lecter,” Will admits against the elder’s lips as they part. Hannibal’s lips don’t leave the youngers skin, he follows the jawline to the curve of his ear, Will’s eyes flutter at the sensations, his breath catching.

“What is it you dream of Will,” the words are heavy with the native accent, it sends a spark of lust through Will’s spine, jolting him against the other once more.

“Us,” he rasps, “sometimes I don’t want to wake up.” He admits, Hannibal smiles against the skin of the profiler’s neck, Will can feel the change in the shape of his lips.

“The mind is a very powerful thing, it can give you whatever you desire, if you only allow it.” His lips hover over the pulse point in the others neck, the beat rapid beneath the flesh. “You have not mentioned these dreams during your sessions.”

“I didn’t think it was relevant,”

“Everything is relevant,” the cut is still harsh against the doctors neck, the bleeding has slowed slightly but the blood still runs into the shirt, staining the collar an angry pink.

“We should see to that,” Hannibal chuckles at Will’s concern, after all, this is the same man who tried to bleed him dry. He, however, humours the dark haired male.

“There are supplies in my bathroom, I suppose we may still save the shirt yet.” He leads the way, up the grand staircase, past the expensive artwork and rich wallpapers, Will has not seen this part of the house before, it’s all so very Hannibal. The Doctor holds the bedroom door open for his companion and heads to the bathroom.

He leaves the door open and Will sits on the edge of the bed, he watches the other as he carefully removes his tie, folding it before placing it aside. He removes the waistcoat with the same care and his hands slowly undo the buttons on his shirt, it slips from his shoulders to be folded with the rest of the clothing, the cabinet above the sink is opened and he removes a selection of items from within. Will tries not to stare, there are scars that cut across the Doctors back, some deep, some long and slender, it’s almost like a map. He watches as he cleans the wound, he places a few stitches pulling the skin back together, it doesn’t appear to be the first time the elder has seen to his own wound.

He checks the stitching in the mirror, cutting off the excess thread and tying to secure. Will finds the movements hypnotising, Hannibal puts the items away. The shirt ends up in the trash and he doesn’t seek another as he walks back into the large bedroom. He stands in the doorway, the wound against his throat still harsh, the scars along his wrists deep, he wonders if the wound he has made will scar or if will it heal as if it had never been.

“There, all better, the shirt unfortunately is not salvageable.” He moves across the room to the curtains, deep red silk and pulls them closed, “now, tell me about your dreams Will.” He thinks, remembers heat, skilled hands against clammy flesh, lips and teeth, words spoken in a foreign tongue against his flesh. He clenches his teeth together to stifle the moan that threatens to spill past. He can sense Hannibal sat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, smell his skin, the blood even now, his eyes close to the world. He succumbs to sensations, to dreams, he thinks it will be Hannibal to rouse him back to the living, instead it’s the gentle hum of a phone on silent, but ringing. “I believe that’s for you,” that voice will be his undoing.

He fumbles in his pocket for the phone, his dexterity seems to have abandoned him, he’s amazed the phone is still ringing when he finds it. Jack Crawford’s name is displayed on the caller ID.

“What will you say to him,” Hannibal asks, he is not watching the profiler, he moves to turn off the light and turn on the bedside lamp. A gentle glow fills the room where once there was bright harsh white, the scars are mellowed in this lighting, almost unnoticeable against the skin.

“Nothing,” Will breathes out and ends the call, “I’m not on call, I’m not at work, I don’t even work for them.”

“So you choose to lure me, for fun perhaps. What do you think it is he wants from you Will,”

“I don’t know,”

“Is he expecting you to check in, can I not be trusted with your safety?” his hand is against Will’s cheek, fingertips brushing the soft curls from his face. “Will the police arrive if he doesn’t hear from you, I wonder how they will find you if they do, bent over the bed, the dining room table perhaps, that would be fitting.” Will can’t focus, he swallows hard against the wanton desire, his body aches, his nerves are on fire. Every touch burns, every word excites, he feels drunk with lust.

“I don’t check in,” every word takes focus and effort he feels could be better placed elsewhere. “I don’t know what he wants,” and finally, “I don’t care,”

“Well then,” he sits next to the younger on the bed, not touching, he watches the struggle for control on the other’s face. “Tell me about your dreams, tell me what you imagine when you are alone,” then closer, more hushed, “perhaps we can make them reality.” Will groans then, he breaks his silence, explain the dreams, the desires he’s hidden inside his mind for so long. He begs the Doctor to touch him, the phone starts to vibrate again. “It must be important,” Hannibal notes catching sight of the name across the screen. Jack again, Hannibal’s mouth is now on his neck, the breath and lips hot against his skin, his fingertips making light work of the buttons on his shirt. “Don’t let me stop you,” he ends the call, turns off the phone and drops it to the floor.

“I’d rather that phrase be applied to you,” Hannibal’s lips follow his fingers as they undo button after button, it reaches a boiling point where Will wishes he would just rip the rest before he passes out. Hannibal’s mouth is delicious, talented and exciting, he knows how to elicit a reaction from the most forgotten parts of skin. Will feels overwhelmed by even the simplest of touches.

“I wouldn’t want to disappoint you,” the Doctor whispers against his skin as his hands move to the belt, the clothes fall easily from that point on. Hands are desperate and Will arches into every touch, every kiss, he definitely thinks he’s lost his mind, but he doesn’t want his sanity anymore. He gasps when the other’s mouth engulfs him, his mind blanks immediately and he loses every thought he ever had, he makes sounds he didn’t know he could and grips the bed sheets in an attempt to keep himself in the moment. He fails in that task and he’ll fail in it over and over again before the night is out. Hannibal wasn’t lying when he said about the dining room table, he added the kitchen, the shower and when Will sleeps it’s peacefully, at ease and without nightmares, the Doctors heartbeat against his back, lips against his neck.

He doesn’t want to fall asleep, he holds to a slumber for hours, still conscious of noise and movement and the weight of Hannibal’s arms around him, the steady breath at the nape of his neck. It’s only when the sunlight starts to filter through the curtains, the birds start chirping that he finally allows himself to fall into that peacefully refreshing sleep and he has no plans of waking up for hours after.

Hannibal stirs hours later with a knock at the door, he is a light sleeper and waited a few moments to see if the knocking would cease and he would be allowed to stay in the warmth of the bed. Rather than subsiding the knocking became more frequent, desperate, Will stirred slightly as he left the bed, also a light sleeper apparently.

“Are you expecting someone,” he asks sleepily, not opening his eyes, Hannibal smiles and brushes the stray curls from his face.

“At this time on a Saturday, no,” he places a kiss to the youngers forehead, “stay here, I will see to it,” He slips on some pyjama bottoms and a jumper, leaves the room and closes the door with a gentle click. The knocking is more frenzied now almost constant. When he opens the door Jack Crawford barges past him into the hallway. “Jack, I wasn’t expecting anyone,” he closes the door, fully expecting a scene, “can I make you some coffee.”

“Where is Will, I have been trying to reach him all night, his phone is going straight to voicemail and it was last traced to this address. His car is at your office.”

“That’s right we walked, would you like that coffee,” Jack’s eyes are on him, surveying him.

“What happened to your neck?” Hannibal touches the stitching,

“A misunderstanding of sorts,” Jack raises an eyebrow at that, all suspicion, “what is it I can help you with?”

“Like I said, Will is missing,” Hannibal smiles,

“No, he is upstairs, I can fetch him if you wish although he is tired and I was hoping to let him sleep for a while longer. What is it you think I have done Jack, what are you trying to accuse me of?” Jack is watching him, putting everything together in his mind, he doesn’t speak but Hannibal is aware he will not be leaving until he has seen the profiler for himself. He is half tempted to take him upstairs and show him where Will is curled up in his bed. “Please, come, wait in the kitchen, I will make the coffee and wake Will,” Jack reluctantly walks to the kitchen and takes a seat at the breakfast bar. Hannibal begins the coffee and excuses himself to go upstairs.

He slips into the room, closing the door quietly behind him, he sits on the bed, places a tender kiss to Will’s shoulder. The younger stirs at the sensation, blue eyes opening slowly to meet Hannibal’s own dark gaze, the elder smiles warmly, watching the other wake, he can sense the desire stir in the younger as his senses return, the sensation of sleep drifting away.

“I was hoping to make you breakfast, however, Jack is downstairs and refusing to leave until he is certain I have not eaten you.” Will groans, a frustrated sound and drags himself from the comfort of the bed, “did you sleep well,” Hannibal asks as Will hunts for his clothes, “borrow anything you need, I have put the coffee on.” He stands and heads towards the bathroom,

“Are you not joining us?” Hannibal slips out of the pullover, the pyjama bottoms follow, Will bites the inside of his lip.

“No, I think I will take a shower, leave you two to your meeting, Jack will probably feel more at ease.” Once again he doesn’t close the door and steps into the glass shower. Will wonders how long Jack would wait before leaving, he realises he probably would sit there all day and begrudgingly dresses in his clothes from yesterday.

He enters the kitchen quietly, Jack is sat at the kitchen counter, he has not helped himself to the coffee and Will greets him and grabs two cups. Passing one to Jack, “I didn’t realise you would be expecting me,” Will states as he sips his coffee, relishing in the rich taste. His mind flutters to the shower upstairs, the sound of the water running, he has the image of Hannibal in his mind and sips at his coffee again.

“I’ve been trying to reach you all night, I traced your phone here, presumed the worst.” Jack keeps his voice low, Will thinks he’s foolish if he thinks the Doctor cannot hear them. He’s almost animalistic with his senses.

“I’m fine Jack,” Will insists, “I don’t work for the FBI anymore and I wasn’t expecting to hear from you, I turned off my phone after dinner.” For dessert, he adds in his head,

“Freddie Lounds is missing,” Jack announces, “she has been for several hours, no one can reach her.” Although Jack seems concerned Will is not, he presumed she would not stay for long, after all she is a journalist and it’s not in their nature to stay hidden away. “Can you provide Hannibal an alibi?”

“You think he had something to do with this? Everyone thinks she is dead,” Will points out, he hears the water stop running. Clears his throat a little and sips his coffee again, he’s only slightly frustrated.

“How can we ever really know what he knows and what he doesn’t?” Jack points out, he hasn’t touched his coffee. Will agrees there is no way to tell that, there never has been. Although he is certain Hannibal did not know until last night.

“I was with him all night Jack, I can confirm he had nothing to do with this. If you ask my opinion she has just got bored and left.” Jack’s staring at him, through him.

“Is something going on here? Between you two?” as if on cue Hannibal walks into the kitchen, cutting the conversation short. His hair is still slightly damp and he brushes past Will as he helps himself to a cup of coffee.

“I’m sorry did I interrupt something?” He asks as he leans against the counter. Jack just stares at Will, watching him, attempting to read the younger or to convey some secret message. “Would you like to stay for breakfast Jack?” he asks with a slight smile, he knows of course that Jack will decline, too fearful of what he may be served from the Doctor’s larder. In fact he’s hoping for that very reaction, a refusal and quick departure, he has found Jack quite rude this morning and he is sure Will can track his thoughts with ease.

“No, thank you Doctor Lecter,” he manages to force the words past his lips. “I have a meeting at the office I am running late for.” A lie, but quite a well-executed one, Hannibal nods his head in understanding and insists he will see the agent out. Will waits for Jack to leave the room before sliding into his seat, he clings tightly to the coffee cup, he is unsure who Jack suspects more, Hannibal or himself.

“Freddie Lounds is missing,” Will nods in confirmation, “I appear to be a suspect,”

“I’m your alibi, strangely enough,” Hannibal chuckles at this slightly, refilling both coffee cups.

“Perhaps that makes us both suspects.”

“Only until she shows up,” Will points out, “more than likely shoving a camera in my face,”

“Will you be staying for breakfast,” The Doctor asks and it’s clear that the choice is Will’s and Will’s alone, there doesn’t seem to any force or expectation behind the offer.

“I should probably be heading back for the dogs, to be honest it’s probably a good thing Jack showed up, I think I could have slept the day away.” He savours the taste of the coffee, enjoying every sip, knowing he won’t have time for another before he leaves.

“You looked most content,” the Doctor airs his observations. Will smiles, a hint of a blush across his cheeks, he runs his hand through unruly curls.

“I don’t think I’ve slept so well for years.” He’s not quite sure how to end the exchange, how to leave in these circumstances, from Will’s prior and limited experience it’s usually someone sneaking out before the other wakes, grabbing for clothes in the dark. This is entirely new territory for the profiler, unfamiliar, unexplored, his social awkwardness apparent in all its glory. Hannibal smirks, reading him as easily as ever, it puts the younger at ease somewhat, he hands Will his phone.

“You had probably best let Jack know when you get home, lest he send a search party after you.” Will chuckles at that, pocketing the phone and finishing his coffee. Will checks his watch, growing increasingly more conscious of the time and the journey ahead. “You should go,” Hannibal insists watching the internal struggle of the profiler, “your pack will never forgive me if I keep you much longer.” Hannibal leads the way to the front door, holding out Will’s coat for him to slip into, as he has done so many times before. He notices his own scent clinging to the other’s skin and thinks it’s a vast improvement to when he arrived at his office last night.

He bids Will goodbye and watches from the door as the other walks down the road in the direction of his office, Hannibal smirks to himself, pleased with the overall outcome of the evening. He wonders if Jack can hope to tempt Will from him now, wonders if the profiler will embrace the darker side to himself. Allow himself what he wants and not what the world think he should have, Will has so much potential and he intends to fully explore it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it wasn’t too bad, haven’t written anything for a little while so apologies for any mistakes. Thinking there will be a second chapter.


End file.
